


The Best Gift Of All

by jenovasilver



Category: Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adorable!John, Cigarettes, Could be Dangerous, Cute, Fluff, Grump!Lock, Holidays, I can totally see this happening., Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe, Oh Moriarty, Sherlock learned something today, Sibling Incest, The true meaning of Christmas., There should've been sex, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenovasilver/pseuds/jenovasilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stranger things have happened to Sherlock....at least this time it was totally worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Gift Of All

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to God...there was going to be smut and somehow the Feels got in the way...forgive but still enjoy, I thought it was cute!

****************

Christmas stopped happening at the Holmes Household when the boys were old enough to acknowledge that there was _no_ Santa Claus and that their presents were actually brought on their parents’ charge cards by servants (this happened around 8 yrs for Mycroft and 5 for Sherlock, respectively). Needless to say after Sherlock’s circle of friends grew, he found himself surrounded by incessant Holiday cheer…in order to avoid the constant harassment of said ‘Cheer’. Sherlock made it a business to attend a party or two, not long, _God never long_ , half an hour was the most he could stand and thankfully no one sung…not unless Mrs Hudson got into the liquor cabinet (it happened more often then one would think).

Sherlock found small refuge in the downstairs study, his friends were upstairs, probably in various degrees of intoxication but he rested amongst the sober silence of the books. Here he was able to think about anything that blocked out the festive merriment. Sherlock would eventually go upstairs in some show of solidarity…perhaps even drink (not that Godawful Egg Nog) but to see John. That’s was probably the only _real_ pleasure of the day, seeing John happy…he was surprised to see just how much he was willing to tolerate for John’s sake, mostly because he knew he’d get something out of it later..

He was so content in the silence that he really didn’t hear anyone coming downstairs, the sounds of the footsteps were light yet the clattering of heels were heavy enough to not be female, this was someone new and yet….familiar.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Ahhh…” The Irish brogue rang out, Sherlock was alert and staring at one Jim Moriarty, decked in his Westwood and complete with Santa hat with a present. _Festive_ Moriarty? He didn't put it pass the man that he would celebrate such a social holiday....the mental image was terrorizingly intriguing to Sherlock. “Oh don’t look so _surprised_ to see me, I’m your favourite present! And look I’m not even wrapped up, I’d much rather have _you_ do that for me.”

“Remarkable, you were able to sneak in here without anyone seeing? They must be completely pissed..or dead.”

“Gosh aww….yeah, *snort* I came with a friend, who knew a friend of someone I killed. You know _how_ these blaise parties are? Too much drink and not enough bullets for everyone but here…a gift.”

“Let me guess…a bomb, no you wouldn’t be so droll to give me a bomb for Christmas.” Sherlock stood up to confront of the shorter man, who could make him feel small (the only person other than Mycroft). Jim smiled widely and bobbed his head as he walked over.

“Dear Sherlock! A bomb! REALLY? For the REAL fireworks we have to wait…New Years is really busy. Oops! Said too much, meh.” Jim took hold of Sherlock’s purple shirt and straightened it out, “Just _who_ is dressing you? So dashing in purple..now go on…open it.” Sherlock pulled the ribbon off to reveal a tiny brown box and threw Moriarty a wry look, was it a finger? An eye? Jim just coyly smiled and rocked on his heels patiently as Sherlock opened the box and rolled his eyes in complete disappointment. “Oh _you_! Go on, raise it!”

“Are you _serious_ ? Of all the things to get…this?” Sherlock raises a sprig of Mistletoe out of the box and just over Jim's head, “What are you expect-” suddenly a kiss, a quick little peck on the lips, Sherlock didn’t have reaction time to stop the kiss or even process that it _happened_.

“Happy Christmas Sexy.” Jim said with the sweetest childish tone Sherlock even heard, “Santa baby has quite a list to check off tonight. Expect bodies in the morning..ifyou can find the pieces.” And Moriarty placed the Santa hat on Sherlock’s shocked head as he sauntered to the window, “Oh I hope you don’t mind like… _everybody’s_ dead up there.” The statement immediately brought Sherlock back to his senses and he whipped his head to see Jim as he hopped out the window and sauntered to his getaway car, “Silly, it’s Christmas! WOO!” And like that he was gone…leaving Sherlock in awestruck silence, still holding the Mistletoe and still wearing the ridiculous Santa hat.

 

**********

 

Rather then panicking and rushing upstairs to see if everyone was fine, Sherlock knew Jim kept his word because there was still obnoxious laughter and horribly singing of festive tunes to kill all the sober eardrums in audible range. The blessing was that it was all rather muffled so Sherlock couldn’t tell who was singing at the moment and he didn’t decipher them (It was too easy…if he became bored enough, he would eventually).

What Sherlock had to do now was calm his heart and head, the kiss from Jim was enough to derail him for a good hour (his body was excited)…it wasn’t the first time the two had moments together. The sexual attraction between the Detective Consultant and the Criminal Consultant was palpable, neither was opposed to shagging if the moment came (between the fist fights and dodging of sniper rounds), opposing parties would _of course_ intervene (John and Sebastian, although Sherlock NEVER seen this Sebastian, his aim was impeccable). Still, the Criminal’s kiss lingered on his lips, it felt like it was the faintest shred of ‘innocence’ he possessed, Jim was a consummate actor and Sherlock couldn’t tell which temperature Jim was ever going to be in. Which was good, it meant the man was NEVER boring and he succeeded in occupying his thoughts; a worthy adversary in his book.  

Once again, Sherlock sprawled on the sofa, his right leg dangled over the side, the other over the top of the sofa and his arm over his forehead in truly dramatic fashion…now that Jim’s presence was downloaded into his brain, his thoughts slowed to a snails pace. Damnit! Sherlock _wanted_ to go to his flat…he _wanted_ John, perhaps now was a good time to see him. Even if the man was drunk, Sherlock was NOT going to go to bed without having sex…then again; Drunk Sex was just as terribly boring as Abstinence so he prayed John practiced _some_ form of restraint. All Sherlock had to do was move off the sofa and check, it would take a second…

“So this is where you’ve been hiding… _really_ Sherlock if you don’t like parties, why go to them at _all_ ?” Mycroft said flatly from the doorway smoking a cigarette, Sherlock took his Santa hat and placed it over his face to dull the annoyed scream. The Eldest Holmes wasn’t bothered by this and proceeded inside, “He left too.. _pity_.”

“What would _you_ and _he_ have to talk about Mycroft?”

“We have common interests strangely enough.”

“Ah _yes_ , of course _you_ do…the both of you are **_banes_** in my existence and I can’t seem to get rid of either of you.” Sherlock mumbled and moved his hat off his face, Mycroft simply rolled his eyes and kept walking toward the sofa, Sherlock pulled the sprig of Mistletoe out of his pocket and held it up above his head, “Everyone finds Mistletoe to be so romantic, such a tradition of love and union, _oh look_ ! There are the lovers kissing! Bah, it’s a parasitic weed that suck nutrients from plants and trees….in essence, every kiss is akin to sucking lifeforce from another. Isn’t that terribly lovey-dovey? Pathetic! Nonsense!” Sherlock bleated, the plant _was_ lovely in a quaint sort of way…so he could see the appeal for the simple minded. However in paying so much attention to the plant Sherlock didn’t notice his older brother standing just above him, that..or he didn’t care.

“So many traditions have strange origins yet people love them..one in _particular_ has a great deal of fondness for them, just upstairs.” Sherlock's expression soured and he huffed.

“John likes so many tedious and quaint things..”

“True, I _suppose_ I could see the appeal, it’s all so very… _jolly_.” Mycroft added with a leery grin and Sherlock sat up in a grump to poke his brother’s stomach, “Don’t start.”

“You would be the absolute worse Santa…who would _dare_ want to be visited by you? Then again, you would be around for the milk and cookies now wouldn’t you?”

“It’s Christmas Sherlock. Do try to drum up some good will or at the very least, tact.”

“Hurt your feelings Mycroft? I wasn’t aware you still possessed many left?” And when Sherlock began to stand in front of his brother, Mycroft just grabbed his collar midway…stopping all advances; he couldn’t possibly have made his older brother cross with that statement, “My?”

“Season of Giving and all…” And Mycroft gave one last puff on his cigarette, took his brother’s hand with the Mistletoe and placed a deep kiss on his brother’s lips, unlike Moriarty’s light and playful peck..Mycroft’s kiss was full of smoke and pushed Sherlock back to the sofa in defeat. The tobacco filled his lungs and Mycroft pulled off with a smile of a childish victory (he wasn’t above it). The wisps of smoke left the corners of Sherlock’s lips as Mycroft fixed his tie then put out the cigarette as he left the room. “Stop being petulant and come upstairs…John’s waiting.”

 

********************

 

At this point Sherlock was in a heady whirlwind, Mycroft’s kiss was nothing short of extraordinary as most of the talents his older brother possesses (Damn him!), the man had a talented mouth and was particularly gifted in the art of shutting him up. He both loved and loathed his brother’s ability… _always_ has, the tobacco clung to his lips and Sherlock kept his fingers pressed on them. So smooth and full…it contrasted perfectly with Jim’s quick and sweet peck, now both had a place in Sherlock’s pleasure centers but now, the Consulting Detective desired _one more_ feeling of contact.

He _needed_ John. And he carried the sprig with him but in his pocket, he really didn’t know why he didn’t toss the damnable thing out.

John sat upstairs lulling the drink off, he wasn’t completely wasted, after all he had plans-’Sherlock plans’ to be more precise. Christmas always brought out the more….kinky side of their relationship which was odd considering that their relationship was built on bizarre experiments, which John had NO TROUBLE accepting (most of the time). Still he loved them and Sherlock, best sex he’s had in his life and with the clock winding down to the Witching Hour..John knew that Sherlock would be raring to go. Chances are they wouldn’t get particularly far without one of them being semi nude by the time they reached home, they’d shag in the taxi if they could (Been there and done that and got quite the earful from Mycroft, the cabbie was well tipped that night). And John smiled to himself, despite Sherlock’s image to the world as a man completely uninterested in relationships and skinship, Holmes had an insatiable appetite for sex. He was fairly aware that Sherlock and his Elder brother shared ’moments’ (Sherlock admitted such) and Heaven above him knew that Moriarty and Sherlock had some sort of ‘thing’ together. Both these situations John tried in earnest to not think about (mostly because it was creepy and it always brought out a twinge of jealousy, John had to be the ‘mature’ one in the coupling).

Mrs Hudson was damn near tipsy and flounced around poor Lestrade, who politely handed her to Molly for ‘safe keeping’, he shot beams of urgency to Mycroft who kept silent but smiled at his lover’s predicament. He too had plans for Lestrade and just patiently was waiting for the man to just say the word ‘Home’ so the two of them would be ghosts. But he also had to wait to see this one last thing play out, it was part of his ’thing’ (See-Kink) with his Sherlock and John and wondered if his precious little brother would actually do it?

Sherlock walked up the stairs to cheers of the drunken masses, he actually forgot that he STILL had on the Santa hat but at the moment…he didn’t care. Nope, not at all..

There sitting down with that charming little smile on his face, in that tacky Christmas jumper was Sherlock’s present, his John, who looked at him rather bemused with the festive hat on the Detective’s head.

“Sherlock, you didn’t attack Old St Nick did you? It’s Christmas!” John chuckled softly with his cheeks red from drink, (red wine, Egg Nog, 3 pints but still moderately sober), “We really don’t need to be arrested…least not till New Years.”

“I’d rather not arrest you lot at all…I’m never going to hear the end of it.” Lestrade piped up and put down the 7th cup of Egg Nog, his eyes immediately focused on Mycroft who tapped his fingers on his umbrella, “I don’t see the point anyway…the paperwork would be a bloody waste of everyone's time.”

“Naturally.” Both Holmes brothers said in unison but only their respective mates caught it, Sherlock walked to John like he was the only person in the room..his eyes focused, his heart still and almost like some sort of cliched revelation did he FINALLY understand the meaning behind the sprig in his pocket. What it meant…no, not the scientific term…but what it TRULY meant.

_**What John meant.** _

“Sherlock? Are you well? I know a great doctor, y’know?” John joked and stood up to touch Sherlock’s forehead, “Christ! Y-you’re burning up! Are you well, I'll get you home and-”

“I’m fine…” Sherlock pulled the sprig from his pocket and held it over their heads, “Merry Christmas John.” With the combined two fold effect of innocence and passion, no force, no dominance, nothing trivial or logical…a LOVER’S kiss and it was perfect, welcomed and needed. Everyone in the room stared at the two in silence. John was soon crumbling in Sherlock’s kiss before he needed some support and Sherlock gave him that. He pulled his lips off John, took his hand into his own, walked out the room then slammed the door behind them.

“My, those two…oh well…I suppose we should all say our good cheers yes?” Mrs Hudson whispered still in the haze of alcohol, suddenly the door opened up and the sprig was hooked to the archway before being shut a second time. “So…who’s second to leave?” Everyone looked at each other; Lestrade laughed nervously to break the silence and watched Mycroft turn his gaze on him and stood up.

“Home.”

“I’ll be in the car.” Mycroft politely nodded to the guests and disappeared with Lestrade rushing beside him.

 

**END**


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